


Not a Blushing Bride

by sherlockian4evr



Series: The Things They Are Not [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brothers will be Brothers, Fluff, M/M, Mystrade - if you squint, Nicknames, Sex in the Loo, Stag Night, Yes John shot the cabbie - but don't tell anyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:56:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4305951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's stag night for the boys. Greg's teasing leads Sherlock to make a revelation. John hides in the loo from embarrassment and Sherlock follows. Sex ensues.</p><p>Takes place during <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5156921">Pieces on the Table.</a></p><p>Beta read by <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110">Sherlock1110.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a Blushing Bride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sherlock1110](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/gifts).



Sherlock wasn't sure why he had agreed to this. Actually, he was. He would do anything to make John happy and tonight that meant spending time in a crowded pub. It might not have been quite so bad if it were only the two of them, but this was their stag night so no such luck.

Their group was small enough not to be overwhelming as it was limited to the two grooms and the best men. Sherlock didn't really mind the presence of Lestrade, but Mycroft was another matter. Just because he had asked him to be his best man, it didn't mean that he wanted to actually spend time with him. Besides, he had only asked his brother to be his best man because it was the expected thing to do and John had already asked Lestrade.

"So, John." Greg leaned forward unsteadily to lift his pint. "When did Mycroft here first kidnap you?"

The doctor laughed. "How do you know about that?"

"I didn't. I dedi... deda... deduced it." The DI was rather proud that he had got the word out. "Just like the pompous git you're marrying."

Mycroft rolled his eyes and John snorted into his beer.

"It was in the middle of our first case, A Study in Pink." The doctor smiled in remembrance.

Greg pointed one finger at John. "Don't think I don't know. It wasn't really all that hard and then this one," he pointed at Sherlock, "started babbling and I thought 'well fuck' 'cause I just knew that Sally was sure to walk up."

The shocked look on the doctor's face was priceless and the DI guffawed.

"Well bloody buggering fuck." John looked into his beer because, honestly, he had had no idea.

The doctor started to speak, but Greg interrupted him - still just as drunk but very intent. "Don't say another word, John. If you don't say it, I don't have to do anything."

The conversation faltered for a moment then Mycroft actually spoke. "I had my reservations at the time, but I'm quite pleased that they were unfounded."

"Pfft," Sherlock spluttered. "Like you cared."

Mycroft gave his brother a level look. "I've always cared, brother mine. From the day you were born."

The detective gagged. "Sentiment, Mycroft? You're undoubtedly drunk and it's not very attractive."

John kicked his fiancée under the table. "Play nice, Sherlock."

"Yes, John."

The laughter coming from the DI echoed around the pub and soon enough John joined in.

Sherlock looked particularly offended. "Oh, shut it, Gavin."

The DI and the doctor laughed even harder. They laughed until tears were coming out of their eyes. The Holmes brother's exchanged long suffering glances.

"See what I put up with Mycroft?" The detective sounded very put out. "They gang up on me all the time."

"I'm sure it's nothing that you don't deserve and his name is Gregory. You should be able to remember that." Mycroft looked as placid as normal though his tone was harsh. "You've known him long enough."

John collapsed against Lestrade when he couldn't catch his breath. "He knows that, Mycie. He just does that to get a rise out of him."

Now it was Sherlock's turn to laugh. He was quite tipsy. "Mycie. Mycie. Mummy's little Myc."

Mycroft must indeed have been drunk because he responded in kind. "Little Lockie. Little Sherl. Little, little Lock."

"God, Greg. Two drunk Holmes brothers. They'll destroy the world."

With a move of his shoulder, the DI shrugged John off. "Admit it, you think it's cute."

The smile that John responded with was beatific. "I think one of them is cute anyway."

Sherlock blushed furiously and took a drink to try to hide it.

Mycroft wrinkled his nose. "Please, Doctor, don't make me ill."

Greg waved to the waitress for another round. "Lighten up Mycie. At least we've been spared the necessity of a charivari."

Sherlock started reciting. "Charivari is taken from the French. It was a folk custom in which the community gave a noisy, discordant mock serenade, also pounding on pots and pans, at the home of newlyweds. The loud, public ritual evolved to a form of social coercion, for instance, to force an as-yet-unmarried couple to wed. Sometimes spelled 'shivaree' or 'chivaree'."

John rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Wikipedia."

"And he didn't know the Earth went around the sun." Greg raised his new pint to his lips. Mycroft's brows shot up. "No, really Mycie, he 'deleted' it."

"Oh, baby brother. What have I told you about that?"

"As if I would listen to anything you have to say."

"I wouldn't expect you to. You never have."

Greg cut in. "Oi! You two. How do you put up with them, John."

"It's not as bad as all of that." John looked at Sherlock fondly. "I usually only have to put up with mine."

The detective blushed once again.

"Look at you, mate! The blushing bride."

The DI had amused himself, but Sherlock was anything but. "I am not a blushing bride, Lestrade."

Greg dissolved into laughter once more. "I didn't mean that. You two have probably shagged at The Yard, for Chrissakes."

"You should know," Sherlock shot back. "your desk was a prime location."

Now it was John's turn to blush. "Sherlock."

The DI dropped his head to the table. "I really didn't need to know that."

John excused himself from the table. "Need the loo." He weaved his way across the room and found the door he was searching for. Thankfully it was empty.

"I'm sorry, John."

The doctor looked up and saw Sherlock reflected in the mirror.

"That was A Bit Not Good, wasn't it?" The detective sounded contrite.

"Yeah, a bit." John giggled, "but it was funny."

Sherlock relaxed. He stumbled the two steps required and draped himself across John's shoulders. "Remind me why I'm not a blushing bride?"

The doctor turned around and looked at his fiancée. "I think it might have been the strawberries."

"Not like that. Not with words, John. Show me."

"We'll get caught."

The detective turned and locked the door. "No, we won't."

"Fuck, Sherlock."

The detective cut off all further protests with the simple expedient of a kiss. John tasted like beer, but that was alright.

Sherlock's hands found John's zip and soon had his fiancée in hand.

John moaned. "The things you do to me. I can never tell you no, can I?"

"Why would you want to?" Sherlock piled John's neck with little nips and kisses.

"Mph. I wouldn't, but let me." The doctor freed Sherlock's cock with one hand and began stroking it gently, with the other, he delved into his fiancée's pocket for the ever present bottle of lube. Soon enough, he had them both slicked up.

Sherlock batted away John's hand and wrapped his long fingers about them both. He used long strokes that started with just enough pressure to tease them both. "John. John, John. My John."

"Yes, always. And you are my Sherlock." The doctor slipped his hands beneath his fiancée's trousers and grabbed his arse tightly. "Please, just a bit more. Fuck! Yes, just like that."

With a tightened grip, Sherlock stroked them more furiously. The feeling of their cocks twitching together overrode his other admittedly drunken senses until there was nothing left but John. When the hands on his arse clenched tightly, he went rigid. They came together and their ejaculate shot over his hand and both their stomachs. "John," he breathed out softly when it was done.

They stood, holding one another for one long moment and then they started to giggle.

"I don't think that is part of a traditional stag night, Sherlock."

"I'm quite sure it's not."

John smiled into Sherlock's chest. "We had better get back before they figure it out."

"No need. Mycroft probably knew what we were going to do before you did." He was answered with a groan.

"Well, fuck."

"Precisely."

"You know I love you, you nutter."

"And I love you, John."

The doctor extricated himself from his fiancée's hold and cleaned them up. Once their clothing was somewhat presentable, he unlocked the door. "Come on with you, then." There was a twinkle in his eye. "My blushing bride."

Sherlock took John's hand and, together, they returned to their stag night.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to podfic or translate this or create a drawing based on it, go for it. Just please let me know and link back to my fic.


End file.
